Devour
by duffie83
Summary: Although the distance of the room separated him from the couple, Hannibal's expert hearing allowed him to make out those three clichéd words so sincerely and sweetly uttered to his Clarice by that man.
1. Chapter 1

When he heard the car in the drive, he stepped behind the heavy floor-length drapes covering the backyard facing windows of Starling's living room. It was hard to miss the Mustang's purr, even for someone less observant than he. Daring to expose a single eye, he kept it trained on the front door. A strange combination of anticipation and anxiety settled heavy and unfamiliar in his stomach.

The jangle of keys, and then….a growl of pure fury softly escaped his throat and lips. _Her_ lips were currently devouring another's, hungrily seeking with teeth and tongue, alternating between wet kisses and gentle nips on his throat. The man was reciprocating in kind, while one hand was closing the door behind them, the other was lifting a shapely leg and wrapping it around his body. Suddenly the man turned them, Clarice was now completely off the ground, back against the front door, spiked heels digging into the man's lower back. He was pushing her evening gown down her shoulders, a coral tipped breast was briefly exposed before the man's mouth swooped in to take possession.

" Mmmmmm…"

Clarice's moan deeply affected Hannibal Lecter. At night, in the dungeon of the Baltimore institute, he had often fantasized of her, and these scenarios were always very detailed and rich in all of the senses. He had thought about the sounds she would make when lost in passion. In fact, he had not been far off in his imaginings, the pitch and tone were almost spot on. To have to now stand here, trapped unless willing to be exposed, and watch as another savored her was more tortuous to him than years in a small dank room with no view. In that moment, he longed for no view. For perhaps the first time in Hannibal's life he would have chosen flight over fight, if only he had selected a hiding spot with an exit. How unfortunate his earlier hubris in believing that such an escape would be unnecessary.

The man was murmuring as he worked his lips from nipple, to collar bone, to the delicate place behind her ear. Although the distance of the room separated him from the couple, Hannibal's expert hearing allowed him to make out those three cliché words so sincerely and sweetly uttered to _his _Clarice by that man .

"I love you."

The man stopped in his ministrations and was now cupping Clarice's face in his hands and looking deeply into her eyes. Hannibal witnessed her indrawn breath and stiffened demeanor. As if a switch had flipped, her body language no longer spoke of love play. She was detached, removed from the situation. Hannibal only wished he could be as well.

Hmmm, yet how very intriguing.

Obviously disappointed in her reaction, the man not so gently set Clarice back onto her own two feet. She had recovered herself somewhat and was now trying to appease, "John, I…"

"Damn it Claire, do you know what today is? You haven't mentioned it, so I'm guessing not. A year today, a fucking year. Didn't you wonder about the dinner and the flowers on a Wednesday night? We've been doing whatever it is we're doing for a year today, and you still won't open up to me. I'm good enough to screw but not to love?"

A beat of silence from her and then, "John…I care about you, I enjoy our time together. We have great sex. They're just words. What does it matter?" Clarice asked, beseeching yet bemused.

A look of sadness and anger on his face, "If you have to ask that, then there's nothing here for me." He reached around her to open the door. She grabbed his forearm, "John, I picked you up. Let me…let me at least take you home," hurt apparent in her voice.

"No, no…I can't be around you anymore. Not right now. I'll walk, catch a bus, whatever." He sidestepped, opened the door, and disappeared into the night.

Simultaneously closing and deadbolting her front door while adjusting her dress, Clarice let out a heart heavy sigh. She rested her forehead on the cool wood and said aloud, voice filled with self-recrimination, "Good going Starling."

"I actually couldn't agree more, my dear," rasped a familiar voice directly behind her right shoulder.


	2. Chapter 2

**She rested her forehead on the cool wood and said aloud, voice filled with self-recrimination, "Good going Starling."**

"**I actually couldn't agree more, my dear," rasped a familiar voice directly behind her right shoulder. **

"Perhaps I should clarify, it is your words and not your sentiment with which I concur."

Clarice slowly turned her body until bright ocean eyes met a maroon gaze. Upon minutes of their first meeting, more than eighteen months ago now, he'd asked her if she thought he was evil. She'd been slippery, and evaded a direct labeling. Her sensibilities, molded by a psychology and criminology background, balked at the term. The concepts of good and evil had no place among theories such as nature versus nurture. Surely if anyone could attribute their actions to childhood traumas, it would be Doctor Hannibal Lecter. But deeper within her psyche, maybe because of _her_ influences by the Lutheran orphanage or her long gone mother and father, she thought, _"Yes doctor, you are evil. Pure, unadulterated evil."_ And isn't it funny how the devil is always depicted with red eyes?

Unfortunately, her personal serpent was now trailing a single finger across the permanent powder burn on her cheek.

"Good evening, doctor," she was proud of the steadiness of her voice.

'Tsk, tsk, Claareece." His tongue seemed to savor her name, and took a bit of extra time with it. "Such poise, yet the throbbing pulse at your neck betrays you." His teeth and eyes gleaming in the shadowed room, he pressed his body against hers. For the second time that evening Clarice found herself backed against her front door. The earlier experience, just a few short minutes and a lifetime ago, left her frustrated. Now, his touch was not just reigniting but scalding…

Training and duties forgotten, she found herself shocked into stillness. At least that is what she will tell herself in the future when reflecting back upon this moment.

He was not urgent, as John had been. The tip of his tongue traced and teased her lips without seeking entry. He breathed in her scent and held it, like a connoisseur enjoying the bouquet of a fine wine. Her breathing hitched when his thumb and forefinger latched on through her dress to the nipple that had been exposed such a short time ago. He pinched, as if punishing it for its earlier infidelities. Her eyes widened at the intense pleasure that accompanied the pain. However the surprise of it allowed her to recall herself.

"Doctor Lecter, you once told me that discourtesy was unspeakably ugly to you. Tell me, how is playing peeping tom and then assaulting my person not discourtesy?" He was saved from a response by the ringing of her doorbell.


	3. Chapter 3

"**Doctor Lecter, you once told me that discourtesy was unspeakably ugly to you. Tell me, how is playing peeping tom and then assaulting my person not discourteous?" He was saved from a response by the ringing of her doorbell. **

"Well I know it is not Joooohn," a lightly mocking whisper, "There is no trace of his atrocious cologne, other than what he managed to rub off on you earlier like a cat in heat. Who would come calling this time of evening, Clarice?"

Dark humor glinted in her eyes, "You mean other than serial killing psychiatrists escaped from the loony bin?" Her spunk pleased him, and she saw amusement laced with raw sensual hunger in his unblinking gaze. She swallowed, hard, all focus suddenly on the various places where his body met hers. One strong hand gripped her wrists and held them together above her head, perhaps a tad tighter than necessary since she wasn't currently struggling. The friction of his chest against hers was exquisite. But it was the hardened length pressed against her mons that unleashed a deluge of liquid heat from her. His nostrils flared as the scent reached him and he watched her pupils dilate.

A savage growl from him, abruptly muffled, as her lips crashed onto his. Unlike his earlier explorations of her, her embrace was in no way tentative. She didn't savor, she consumed. Her sharp white teeth on his lips, they sliced the delicate skin and drew blood. The iron taste of him in her mouth, she continued in a frenzy, forcing her way in and allowing tongue to duel tongue. He dropped her wrists, and she immediately grasped onto the sleek hair on his head, holding him to her. Hannibal was enraptured and returned her passion, but there was no doubt who was dominating this particular exchange. Even as his heart thrilled at the situation, a small and foreign tendril of fear uncurled within him as he was once again reminded of her unpredictability. _Oh Clarice, you slay me._

A second ringing of the doorbell brought Clarice back to herself. Their gasping breaths between them, she suddenly heard her friend Ardelia's voice in her head, _"Girl, you did not just initiate tonsil hockey with fucking Hannibal the Cannibal Lecter!"_ For some reason the mental chastisement did not shame her. Like tectonic plates under the continent of her soul, she was experiencing a fundamental shift in values, long held views of black and white were morphing into shades of gray. Standing before her was a murderer, more than a murderer, a monster who rejoiced in the chaos he inflicted. And yet he was the most fascinating man she knew, the most courteous. An enigma, there was no word for what he was. Also, she suspected he understood her in a way no one else did or ever had. She made a choice.

"Doctor Lecter…Hannibal. It's FBI, it's gotta be an agent. My home has been under surveillance since your escape."


	4. Chapter 4

"**Doctor Lecter…Hannibal. It's FBI, it's gotta be an agent. My home has been under surveillance since your escape."**

A gleeful grin on his face, their bodies still entangled, Hannibal drank in the beauty of the moment. That kiss, then Clarice not only forsaking but betraying her precious F…B…I, throwing aside her carefully constructed notions of right and wrong, for him—a man she had discourse with on a handful of occasions, and always with barriers between them. It's one of life's special pleasures to realize a regard is returned. He, of course, loved her. Not at first sight, but at second when she had the fortitude to stand before him with Migg's cum dripping down her face, trying to use his rare moment of distress to wheedle a psychological survey from him. _Clever girl, metaphorical balls of steel, a deep roller…_He had known she was fascinated with him, and that the initial fear she had so valiantly tried to hide during their first meeting had metamorphosed into a cautious form of respect. But to have proof now, that she felt more, as demonstrated by her actions…it warmed his heart, the organ some denied he possessed.

"If you're referring to the acne faced pup parked a half a block down, I assure you he will not be troubling us this evening."

Unease, and was that anger in her eyes? "Doctor, you didn't…"

"No, no. Your assumption wounds me, dear. He'll be out well into tomorrow morning, but alive. Consider it my gift to you, much more original and appreciated than dead flowers I should think."

The third ringing of the doorbell, this time impatiently held for a few extra seconds. Moving together, in accord without verbal communication, Hannibal stepped behind the door as Clarice cracked it open to greet the visitor.

"Good evening, ma'am. I'm from Shaun's Steaks, your neighbor orders from us. Anyhow, we accidently placed an order for two boxes of t-bones but he only wanted the one. I have these on my hands now, can't return them to corporate. I'm willing to sell them for $3.00 a piece, they normally go for 10." Clarice looked at the man, no… boy, at least five years younger than her. College kid? She could see the company van parked on the curb. She knew he was legit, not an agent. A hysterical bubble of laughter tried to escape her lips as she was struck with the hilarity of the situation. It was 8:00 on a Wednesday night, and her snogging session with Hannibal Lecter was being interrupted by a kid trying to pawn raw meat off on her. Shit-house-mouse, life was funny.

"No thanks, have a good evening." She abruptly shut the door in his face without waiting for a response.

Their gazes locked again, and he said simply, "Run with me Clarice."

And a simple answer, but with a thousand ramifications, "Yes."


	5. Chapter 5

**~ I'm fairly new to fanfic, especially the Lecterverse. I've deliberately included many tasty tidbits from canon, but I also realize I was probably influenced by the couple dozen Lecterfics I've read. If I borrowed from anyone it was inadvertent. Thanks for reading my little series of vignettes. They were a fledgling attempt at fiction and feedback would be appreciated. **

**~ My husband and I just bought a house in a new development. We've had solicitors try to get us to buy landscaping, maid service, and yes, frozen steaks. **

**~ A special thanks to the following fanfic-ers for their consideration in taking the time to review and their words of encouragement:**

**Aldus Mischa S.**

**Demeter1973**

**sunfire004**

**Green Jewels **

_**Disclaimer: The characters Clarice Starling, Dr. Hannibal Lecter, and Ardelia Mapp were created by Thomas Harris. They are used without permission, but in the spirit of admiration and respect. No infringement of copyright is intended and no profit was made. **_

_**Disclaimer for the disclaimer: I thought it was well worded and above all polite, I 'borrowed' it from a website entitled **__**Loving Lecter**__** and only altered it slightly. **_


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